


Of Poison and Fealty

by jusrecht



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn
Genre: Gen, Loyalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-04
Updated: 2011-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-15 09:42:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jusrecht/pseuds/jusrecht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is a custom for a boss to give out presents on his birthday for his most loyal subordinates. This year is no different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Poison and Fealty

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Dino's birthday, February 4th 2011.

The door closes. Silence descends once more, expectant.

“I want you to have this.”

Romario shifts his gaze from Dino’s carefully blank face to a small box, presented on the desk’s dark mahogany. Under the gaping lid, on the black velvet throne, is a ring with the Family’s insignia as its centrepiece.

He raises an eyebrow. “For me?”

“Yes.”

“It’s beautiful and certainly flattering,” Romario’s voice now carries a trace of wariness, “but I don’t quite understand why.”

Dino smiles then—a ghost of one. “It isn’t just a ring. In fact, extra caution is needed when you wear it. A trickle of your flame and a lethal dose of poison will be released into your body. Instant death—or so Reborn said.”

Romario stares at him, long enough to prompt another explanation. Dino laces his fingers together and keeps his voice steady. “I know that it is considered an act of bravery to give one’s life away for the sake of the Family, but there are circumstances and practices that we unfortunately know only too well.” He pauses, juggling between equally loathsome words; the truth is, the truth is rarely pleasant. “Torture is an abomination. To endure it is senseless and I don’t wish it on my conscience. I don’t want that sort of proof of loyalty, from anyone.”

Moments pass before Romario replies, a little haltingly, as if unsure of his own power of speech. “Torture is not the only temptress of death, Boss. To speak pragmatically.”

Dino acknowledges the allusion with a nod. “You already carry a gun every day. But a gun is easily seized and a ring, an ornamental sort like this, is easily overlooked.”

“Some may consider it cowardice. An easy way out.”

He shrugs as if uncaring, but the motion bears much weight unseen. “It’s a choice. A gift. You may use it and you may not, it is up to you.”

Romario is silent as he reaches for the box, then weighs it in his hand as if heaviness might measure some of its value. He angles the box a little to the right, then a little to the left, catching different glints of light on the engraving. Then he looks up and declares, voice choked with emotions, “This is a pretty screwed-up present to give on your birthday, Boss.”

Dino manages another smile, more pronounced, more solemn. “I have no illusion about what I do, Romario.”

His most faithful man nods, slowly and sadly. “I guess I hoped, once.”

Then he is gone, leaving only the mark of his words in Dino’s mind. There are still eight boxes left, lined inside one of many locked drawers riddling his desk. Dino thinks of each man and woman who has served him since he first came to power—a boy of thirteen, and his childish caprice had just sent his father to an early death. Loyalty was a hollow word then, through grief and tears.

He knows better now. He picks up his phone and says, “Please ask Ivan to come to my office.”

 

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_End_   
**


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